


When The Music Stops

by calliopes_pen



Category: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-24
Updated: 2008-01-24
Packaged: 2018-12-04 06:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11549280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calliopes_pen/pseuds/calliopes_pen
Summary: Following the Year That Wasn’t, Jack wanted to do a little something for Martha.  After a Torchwood investigation, their friendship goes to the next level.





	When The Music Stops

**Author's Note:**

> This will have spoilers for _Last of the Time Lords_ , and a few mentions of events in _Countrycide_. This has nothing to do with _Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang,_ as I started on it before I saw that episode. This story was written for [](https://persiflage-1.dreamwidth.org/profile)[persiflage_1](https://persiflage-1.dreamwidth.org/), as a continuation of an earlier drabble. There is definite Jack/Martha, and Ianto and Myfanwy pop in for a few minutes. I’m terrible at sex scenes, so I just did a fade to black in those spots. No matter what I did, Jack and Martha mostly ended up talking anyway.

Martha Jones wiped her face with a disgusted sigh, staring down at her ruined clothes as they made their way back into the Hub. “The next time the Lenaskas try anything, remind me to bring an umbrella...or maybe a rain coat.” Thankfully, she hadn’t ruined anything of actual importance, from what she had been able to tell. She’s mainly glad that the call didn’t turn out to be gigantic wasps from another universe--or those human-sized ticks that shot paralyzing venom again.

Jack threw his head back and laughed. The Lenaskas were one of the few aliens that actually exploded into pink slime if you tried to punch them. He remembered Owen’s profanity-filled rant upon encountering them for the first time, and silently applauded Martha’s current restraint. The resulting gooey mess wasn’t dangerous or anything, but it _was_ a major pain to clean out of clothing, and it always, always ruined your best pair of shoes. They were higher on the priority list than Weevils, if only slightly.

Martha turned a playful glare in his direction, and poked his chest a little forcefully--possibly unintentionally (or _intentionally_ , judging by that grin of hers, Jack thought) flinging some of the sticky stuff in his direction. “Laugh it up, Mister. I _saw_ you ducking behind a garbage bin when it popped up.”

Jack looked away guiltily and held up one hand to defend himself. “I’ll have you know I just got this coat back from the dry cleaners, after the _last_ time I died. They’re starting to give me funny looks when I show up with _anything_. I’m _sorry_ , but I’d rather they didn’t think I was the next Hannibal Lecter.” Jack shuddered, remembering the last time Torchwood ran into cannibals.

As they walked inside, Martha gave him a playful look. “No fava beans and chianti on the premises, then, Mr. Harkness?”

Ignoring the disturbing cannibal memories, Jack focused on Martha and grinned. “Nope.” After a moment, he added, “But doesn’t a nice hot shower, followed by a candlelit dinner and a glass of wine sound better?”

“Why, Jack Harkness--are you trying to seduce me?”

Jack grabbed his chest as though he were wounded to the quick, and grinned. “I have to _try_ now? I’ll have you know I spent two mind blowing years learning the _best_ seduction techniques the universe has ever seen! And if you’re not satisfied, well...then, my name’s not Captain Jack Harkness.”

A messy jacket hitting him across the face, and a delighted laugh (and was that a muttered, ‘it’s not, buddy boy’? Why, _yes_ , it was.) echoing in his ears easily answered that question. _No_ , he didn’t need to try. Then again, without the thrill of the chase, where would they be, besides bored to tears? Martha Jones (Doctor--he had to remember that, too) wasn’t _just_ a quick lay. She was the type of woman that had to be treated well, and she even had the strength to travel a world controlled by the Master, without ending up gibbering in the nearest padded cell.

And, judging by the fact that she was even willing to be in the same room as him, she was also someone that didn’t dwell too much on the past. Just the way he liked it, Jack mused, as he set up the wine glasses, and found and lit a few candles.

This would have to serve as that drink she’d promised the time they had danced together. He couldn’t find the whiskey, and wondered whether someone had pinched it.

While it might have been more interesting and a tiny bit appealing to put a blindfold over Martha’s eyes and surprise her with everything, it wouldn’t have been welcome. Thanks to the Master, neither of them handled surprises that well.

_Or whips. Or leather_... Jack shook his head and sighed, mourning the demise of a few of his favorite games in bed.

Actually, they would rather point guns at and interrogate their surprises these days. If it wasn’t something significant, they laughed at themselves, each pretending there wasn’t really any uneasiness there.

PTSD pretty much played hell on one’s brain, Jack mused as he finished his preparations. _Especially for an Immortal’s brain_ , he thought with a quiet snort. Despite that, he and Martha got along well together. Well, more than well, what with the gorgeous snark and the teasing and all. _Much_ better than some he knew, who preferred insults and swaggering...  
\--  
  
Approximately forty minutes and a shower later, Jack realized that his plans were ever so slightly being derailed. They sat on the floor near the bed, just talking as an old Glenn Miller song played quietly in the background. Both had vowed that nothing short of a disaster of Biblical proportions or the Master’s return (again) would get them out of the Hub.

_Ah, well. Talk, **then** bed’s a great thing, too. As long as a bed enters the equation at some point tonight._

Martha had finally mentioned a few bits on the weirder (and some of the funnier) moments that happened during her walk around the world. Well, as funny as things could get with the Toclafane and the Master lurking around every corner, anyway...

Jack raised an eyebrow at a spot in her latest story. “ _Where_ did you learn to use a sword again?”

Martha raised an eyebrow of her own, taking a small sip from her glass before putting it on a nearby table. “It was a man who called himself Mac. He had a ponytail, and helped a bit during the Year. Really chivalrous...he said I needed to know how to use a sword, and that it could come in handy someday.” She shook her head, remembering how odd that man was, before adding with a grin, “He reminded me a bit of you, actually. He kept chatting up anything that was female...of course, some of the females _also_ seemed to have a thing for swords.”

If Jack knew Martha half as well as he thought he did, she would be eager to test her mettle against him in a duel very soon.

Jack huffed and chuckled when she finally asked those fateful words: ‘will you let me slice you to ribbons?’ Putting his arms behind his head, he glanced at her with a phony air of trepidation. “You couldn’t be satisfied with pinning me to the mattress? I have to be sliced apart now?” He put his hands to his forehead in a ‘woe is me’ gesture.

He didn’t bother to glance over--the expected throw pillow scored a direct hit to his face, and he laughed. Turning quickly, he grabbed her and pulled her closer.

“Ah, two can play at that game, Martha Jones,” he muttered as he both tickled and kissed her on the neck. She rolled, grinning, as she gained the upper hand with a few moves of her own. Their lips met, and clothes quickly vanished…until there was a small snag, at least. Martha practically growled as she tried to remove both his belt, and his braces. “Why must you wear so much?”

“That’s usually my line,” he said, with mischief sparkling in his eyes. He raised an eyebrow, not completely getting the point. She softly slapped his arm. “Jack, this is the equivalent of me wearing a corset and _possibly_ long underwear!” Jack cringed, getting the message, and shedding the braces with astounding speed.

As they started to kiss again, however, a sudden shriek broke them apart--it was quickly followed by a metallic clanging. Jack sighed in annoyance, leaning his forehead against Martha’s as she softly chuckled. “ _That_ would be Myfanwy. Owen probably forgot to feed her.” He seemed to briefly consider getting back to things when a forlorn cry echoed through the room. Martha put her hands over her face as she laughed, saying, “She sounds like my Mum’s cat when she wants something!”

With a playful shove to Jack at his helpless look, she continued, “I don’t mind, Jack. We’ll feed her... _then_ we get back to things.”  
\--

Myfanwy gave Jack a look of quiet contemplation, seeming to sniff the air. Jack gave a mock glare and thought it had to be a trick of the light that made her look so quietly smug. Myfanwy trilled as he neared, slapping her giant bowl with one wing.

“If she’s like Mum’s cat, she’ll follow us back to bed if she’s ignored. Feed her, Jack.”

Jack cringed. “Sorry, but dinosaurs are where I draw the line at bed buddies. _Kidding_ , Martha!” He jumped away with a grin before Martha could slap at him, and watched as she leaned over to scratch the pteranodon’s head; the old girl definitely appeared smug to have interrupted them. She occasionally had this same look whenever she “accidentally” tore off the seat of Owen’s pants.

As Myfanwy gave him the standard ‘I think I’ll eat _you_ if you don’t hurry it up’ look, Jack hurriedly threw a few dead fish in her bowl. At her vaguely inquisitive look, he also added the treat he always gave her whenever it was his turn to feed her--a side order of chips from a local pub, bought earlier in the day.

Martha stared as she devoured it all as though starving, before shaking her head in amusement. “Oh, _Myfanwy._ You’ll be the only pteranodon in history that will get clogged arteries.”

Stroking Jack’s neck with one finger, Martha whispered, “ _Now_ , let’s get back to what we were doing...”

Jack grabbed her arm immediately, a delighted grin plastered on his face as they ran back to his room.  
\--

By the time Martha had closed the door and turned around, Jack was already completely undressed. He stood with his hands on his hips, and Martha snorted. “Trying to set world records, are you? Get over here, you!” She would have grabbed him by his braces, had he still been wearing them.

Throwing themselves onto the bed, Jack set about exploring every inch of her once she had been thoroughly kissed, and stripped. He pulled back from his mission just long enough to mutter in her ear, “You deserve to be worshipped, and I intend to do just that.”

“As long as I don’t have to have anyone sacrificed for me, I’m fine with that.”

Jack blinked, and pulled back for a moment. “Let me guess--the Doctor missed his mark, and you became queen for a day? There was running involved?” Martha nodded and grinned. “Isn’t that always the way? It happened to me once, too, when I was with him. _Queen Harkness_ , they called me, since they didn’t really understand gender that well.”

Seeing her disbelieving look, Jack renewed his attentions to her. It would prove to be one of the best Martha had ever known.  
\--

The two of them basking in the afterglow, Jack had turned his thoughts to giving Martha the best massage ever...but he didn’t feel like moving. He nudged her a bit with one finger. “Relaxed yet?”

“Without a doubt, Jack.”

The sound of shattering glass and multiple thuds broke the mood. Before Jack could say a word to Martha, she had already leapt out of bed, grabbed a gun, and was currently waiting for him to hurry it up. Obviously, the Year That Wasn’t had taught her many things, and left her unashamed to confront a possible intruder in the nude. She was practically an Amazon in his mind.

“Much as I think it would make it easier to stop an intruder in their tracks with your gorgeous body--wearing nothing but a smile, Martha...but do you want my greatcoat?” With a naughty grin to Jack, she took it.

Having wrapped the coat around herself, she raised one eyebrow as they began to sneak up behind whoever had broken in. “What about _you_ , Mister?”

Jack grinned, and winked as he pulled found his own gun. “Me? You’re looking at the man that _invented_ streaking. June 10, 1899--not even in the history books. I was bored and drunk and ran through the streets of Paris goosing anything that moved.”

“Now _that_ I can believe.”

Reaching the front of the Hub, Jack turned on the lights and quickly aimed his gun. The expected alien invasion and/or serial killers weren’t there, however. Instead, Ianto was sprawled on the floor (his tie still impeccably neat) picking up pieces of a glass vase near the bottom of the staircase. Glancing at them, he didn’t even raise an eyebrow at Jack’s nudity.

Work at Torchwood a while, you’ll get used to running into nudity. It was practically a rite of passage.

Martha hurried over to Ianto, helping him to his feet. As they turned back to Jack, both noticed that his gun had mysteriously vanished from his hands, and stared pointedly.

Jack beamed. “It’s in a safe place. Came in handy when the makeover robots were after me on the Game Station.”

As one, they responded, “I _don’t_ want to know.”

Casually picking up a card (and simultaneously straightening his jacket) from the ruins of the vase, Ianto handed it to Jack. “I arrived early to start on the filing. The orchids arrived, addressed to both you, and Miss Jones. They were placed beneath the door. I planned to run tests on it for any pheromones or alien pollen--but note the card, and you’ll see why I went straight to you.”

It was signed simply, _The Doctor_ on the front. Jack opened it, starting to read before laughing and handing it over to Martha. “Read it out loud.”

She glanced at him for a moment, wandering what the Doctor might want, before starting.

“This is the Doctor. Just thought I would send you the orchids to say Welcome To Torchwood life, try to stay safe, and please don’t blow the planet up. Have fun--the TARDIS misses you both, sends her love, and says she will try to drive me insane while you’re gone. Something about playing songs involving your names until I come back for you. For the last three days--Gallifreyan time--she’s telepathically blasted a hit from the 81st century called The Wandering Miss Jones And Her Gallant Steed. We love you, know what you’re doing (yes, Jack, _that_ ) right this very second, and I’m _so_ sorry I never said thanks. The TARDIS wants me to repeat that as she’s electrocuting me repeatedly until I do, so thanks, thanks, thanks, Miss Jones. Well, I’m running out of room now--cards don’t get a properly large size until the year 2090, and I have a lot to say...I’m rotten at knowing where to stop and--”

Martha looked up and grinned as it cut off in mid-sentence. “He even rambles when he _writes_!”

He gently took her hand and squeezed it for a moment. She patted his arm, knowing the thanks meant a lot to them both. After he blinked a moment, he looked at the card again. “I’m the gallant steed?”

“I’ll say you are, Harkness.”

Martha laughed as Jack scooped her up and spun back towards the bedroom. He stopped and looked back, while Martha stroked his arm, partially distracting him.

“Oh, Ianto?”

Ianto raised an eyebrow, calmly waiting for Jack to continue.

“The next time someone interrupts us when we’re busy, they’ll regret it.” He turned back, his face threatening to break into a large grin. “Remember that Martha could skewer them if you got her annoyed enough.” The immortal ignored Martha’s indignant snort.

Ianto shook his head, and rolled his eyes. “I’ll be sure to inform the others, sir. They won’t interrupt your gymnastics.” After a pause, he added, “The floor will be clean of glass as well by the time you…finish.”

How Ianto managed to keep such a straight face at times such as this, Jack would never know.

Jack and Martha would hurry back to bed, and as another Glenn Miller song played from his stereo, Martha would be so pampered that she wouldn’t know up from down. When the music stopped, the true adventure would begin.

_Finis_

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks go out to Persiflage_1 and SeanDC for beta reading.


End file.
